


The Monster with the Golden Fur

by greenfairy13



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Dark!Rose, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-23
Updated: 2018-10-14
Packaged: 2019-07-01 15:29:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15776901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenfairy13/pseuds/greenfairy13
Summary: An unnamed planet is about to face the apocalypse when the Doctor is taken here by the TARDIS. Something is off and he can't think properly due to an entity resembling Rose.





	1. Apocalypse - An Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> This will be a very short, dark 12 x Rose story. I guess three to four chapters.

The air shimmers as a golden sun is burning down on the grey pavement. It's the end of August and the light is already golden, not anymore vivid and sparkling but tainted by the fall to come. Still it's hot enough to make him gasp for air, to make breathing heavy despite his respiratory bypass. Sticky sweat is pooling between the double pulse of his beating hearts, flowing down in itching rivulets and bonding his shirt inseparably with his skin.

 

It's the last day of summer for this grey city suffering under the unforgiving heat. Tomorrow the temperature will drop and soon the land will be caked in ice. It's the last day of summer for the next four thousand years. The people here don't know yet. But they will soon enough and it will be to late then.

 

The Time Lord can't change it. It's a fixed point in time, a necessity to happen and a well deserved one, considering the war the inhabitants brought upon themselves.

 

He watches up in to the milky sky that tomorrow will turn black and snarls. He isn't sure why the TARDIS would take him to this doomed place. There's nothing to do here.

 

He wanders around aimlessly until he stops at an ice cream parlour. He doesn't have much of a sweet tooth in this body. Despite, he enters. Maybe it's the heat, maybe it's the gloomy feeling of not having to do anything, maybe it's a rush of nostalgia. He orders a banana ice cream and tastes it hesitantly. It's too sweet and too luscious, making his stomach revolt.

 

Spinning around in search for a dust bin his eye catches something flavescent. His skin prickles as he senses something off, some entity that doesn't belong here and his eyes narrow as the aggravating feeling increases, constricting his time senses.

 

He can't see her until she materializes behind him, startles him.

 

“You shouldn't have come here,” she says and his hearts stop. This voice is engraved into his memory, his mind, his being. This voice has accompanied him through three lives and even four if he is honest with himself. Which he isn't.

 

He whips around and looks at her. The flash of gold, the dash of pink in this acromatic world stings his eyes and he really should be upset that this entity, this abomination chose _her_ face above all the others. But then it makes sense. It still stings more than the others.

 

Her eyes sparkle with contrived mirth, holding none of the warmth he remembers. Voluptuous pink lips enclose an ice cream cone, a red tongue twirls and circles around frozen fat and sugar. A crimson tip darts out to stop the melting treat from escaping her or sugary droplets from hitting the ground. It's as obscene as it is innocent. She places the half eaten ice cream on the counter and watches him curiously as she places her index finger between her teeth and sucks. _Hard._ His eyes zero in on her mouth. He couldn't look away if the world would go up in flames right now.

 

“What are you?” he demands to know, growls, when his pulse calms enough for him to speak again.

 

She gives him a tongue touched grin. “Sticky,” she tells him cheekily and giggles. “You shouldn't be here,” she adds earnestly.

 

“ _Who_ are you?” he tries again.

 

She laughs outright. “It doesn't suit you asking questions you already know the answer to.”

 

“I don't know you!” he hisses angrily and her eyes widen just the slightest bit.

 

“You used to.”

 

“I certainly don't know you now!” he growls. She laughs again.

 

“It's the eyes, innit?” she asks, tilting her head. “They change even if they don't.”

 

“No, it's the feeling,” he replies wryly and she nods. “This planet,” he asks, “is it dying because of you?”

 

She watches him with ancient, black rimmed eyes through lashes heavy from too much mascara. “I have my reasons.” She shrugs.

 

“Which?” he snaps back, more sharply than he intended.

 

“You'd do the same, trust me,” she replies coldly and the constricting feeling increases again, makes him shiver despite the heat. There's salt and oil in the air and a foul smell. He's drowning on solid ground and he gasps.

 

Her eyes flare with unhidden anger. “Don't,” she hisses. “Don't ever enter my mind or I'll burn you.” She doesn't threat, she states. “You should leave,” she tells him.

 

When he starts moving he isn't sure he's doing so on his own accord. He's moving blindly, wishing he could look back but doesn't dare to. His safe heaven isn't far. When he touches the TARDIS' door he snaps out of his stupor and turns around to take a last look back at the doomed ice cream parlour.

 

He reads the sign and shudders.

 

_Bad Wolf._

 


	2. Looking Closer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor is still not in his right mind.

 

The Doctor fumbles for his key as he tries retreating into his beloved time ship. He curses when he fails to open the door in his haste. He needs to get away from this place as quick as possible. Everything about this planet is wrong. All the events here are already set. This habitat is one big, messy, fixed point in time about to explode in a nuclear winter. He's got about six hours to get going before he'll be needing four regenerations and a miracle to avoid his ultimate death.

  


All these centuries, he thinks. All these centuries and seeing Rose's face still makes his hearts stutter. After all this time he still can't see something pink and golden without it setting his blood on fire. Of course this entity wasn't her. This creature, whatever it was, it wasn't human. It oozed timeless power. But it still had _her_ face and he can't risk to fall for her spell. Like a sailor who discovers a siren he needs to run. And then he'll have a word with his TARDIS about why she took him here anyway. It doesn't make sense.

  


He tries his key again but still doesn't manage to enter. “Let me in!” he bellows in vain. The last time he encountered an entity wearing Rose's face was on Gallifrey. That didn't make sense either. He didn't even know her in his _this_ body, the body of the War Doctor. Did all the ageless monsters somehow caught up on her meaning to him? How could it be, that she'd always be the one thing he can't get over? He's starting to get desperate. Yet, nothing works, his TARDIS won't let him in unless he does what she wants him to on this bloody planet. “Fine,” he mutters. “You obviously want me dead.” He glares at his time ship. "You really never take me where I want to go," he grumbles. He wants to kick that blue wood.

  


“She's really a stubborn old girl,” someone chuckles behind him and the Doctor whirls around.

  


He faces the entity again. The Not-Rose is standing behind him, giving him a teasing grin. Her hair is longer than he remembers yet even brighter as if the sun had had months to bleach it. She's wearing tight black jeans and a tank top of the same colour. He can see the tantalizing swell of her breasts and every curve of her perfect hips. The abomination is almost Rose, except for the golden, inhuman sparkle in her eyes.

  


“I told her it would be a disastrous idea to come here,” she carries on and it's _her_ voice he's hearing. It's a stab to his hearts. If he'd close his eyes and indulge, he's sure the last centuries would fall from his shoulders. If he gave in, he'd be only nine hundred years old again. He can almost feel the softness of his red trainers around his feet and the hem of his trench coat brushing his shin. If he'd reach out, he could hold Rose's hand again and rush off with her to discover the wonders of the universe and it wouldn't be terrifying but wonderful and exciting with her at her side. Life had been better back then. Not less dangerous. But the dangers had been a rush of adrenaline and not full of utter terror.

  


“It's very clear I am here because of you,” he finally presses out through gritted teeth. He watches her cautiously, forces himself to look at her time line for a second. He almost vomits. She's pure power, one that is constricting everything around her. Possibilities are being born and die off with each breath she takes. She's bending the space in her wake to her will like a child playing with clay.

  


“You shouldn't look too closely,” she informs him carefully. “Sentient species tend to feel unwell in my company.”

  


“What are you?” he gasps out. He's utterly powerless against this creature. If his TARDIS wants him to face this monster, she's mental. In all his years of travelling through time and space he hasn't encountered a being like this one. For once, the Doctor is truly afraid. He hasn't got any control over the situation. There's not a single coherent thought in his mind and for all his brilliance he ain't got no idea what to do except for taking the coward's way out.

  


“You know what I am,” she replies, leaning casually against a tree. “The question is rather why your TARDIS wants you to meet me.”

  


“How can you know about my TARDIS?” he questions, stepping back into the small shadow she offers. The temperature just rose again a bit. The heat is about to become insufferable even for a Time Lord. Sweat is standing on his forehead, running down his back and even his calves. He's feeling sick and like falling through an endless pit of darkness. His hearts are racing and staying upright becomes a battle he's about to lose. _What is this thing?_ Reality slips through his fingers, spirals out of control.

  


Rose would know what to do, he tells himself. Rose would know how to deal with a being wearing her face. He closes his eyes again as wave of nauseousness washes over him. He would never admit it to anyone but when he's at wit's end, he still talks to her, still imagines her in his TARDIS sitting on the jump seat or twirling around the console. She's still the one he turns to for advice. And now she's standing right in front of him. She talks to him in her voice, smiles at him with her mouth. If it wasn't for the eyes, he could fool himself. He wants to fool himself, wants this thing to be her, wants to be whole again.

  


As if sensing his turmoil the creature bends down to him. He hasn't had the strength to stay upright any longer, sits on the ground with his back against the TARDIS, panting heavily.

  


The golden spots disappear from her eyes as they turn soft, _human._ So very soft and compassionate. “Doctor,” she whispers. “It's me.” Her voice is like honey dripping onto his lips. “I am back. I came back for you. I'll always come back for you.”

  


He closes his eyes. Inside, he's burning up. His dazed mind is unable to function properly any longer. “What do you need?” the creature pressures urgently but he can barely hear her. For some unexpected reason he's dying with his back against the TARDIS on a totally insignificant planet and fantasizing about Rose.

  


“You came back,” he laughs weakly and the world turns black like all these years ago when a Dalek shot him in the chest.

  


  


 


	3. The Wolf in the Bedroom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I guess this story is getting longer than I intended.....

The Doctor wakes to the sound of thunder. It echoes in the distant, like rocks tumbling from the top of a mountain, coming closer and closer until they stop in the valley. He cracks an eye open but the light that blinds him is downright painful. Its brighter and hotter like the combined suns of Gallifrey and cutting through his brain like razorblades. Moaning, he turns around, shifts his body away from the source of the noise and the light.

 

“Sorry,” Rose mumbles apologetically and the pain subsides. A rush of relief rushes through his veins. After all, it had been just a bad dream. He's back on the TARDIS, Rose is preparing tea and she has probably burnt the toast again. Rose couldn't prepare a toast to save her life. He chuckles to himself. She can travel through the walls of the universe, she can alter fixed points in time and bring him back from the death but trust her to mess up any breakfast.

 

He groans again. Wait? Rose? He hasn't travelled with her in thousands of years. Billions, if he counts in his time taking the long way back to Gallifrey. Gallifrey? That planet doesn't exist any more. He burnt it to cinder and escaped the inferno. But how did he ever escape? That fact must have somehow slipped his mind. Instead it's filled with sonatas by Beethoven. Who put the sonatas there? He groans again.

 

“They are echoes,” Rose replies.

 

“Wha arr ehos?” he mutters eloquently into his pillow.

 

“The sonatas,” she answers him patiently. “You and I, we altered time so often, Beethoven never lived up to the become the genius you remembered. But as you have already heard his music, _you_ could remember. When you came back to him and gave him the notes, you restored time.”

 

“Hmm.” Impressive answer for a Time Lord. He should really wake up, pull himself together and face his monster of the day. But it's early and he's tired and there is something he can't remember, something important, something....

 

“Doctor, wake up.” Rose's voice is soft and kind, full of love. It's like a pillow and he wants to drown in it. “Wake up.” She's more demanding now. And how could he deny her anything if she asks so nicely?

 

He finally opens his eyes and takes in the room. It's clinical, functional. There a walls in a faded colour that could once have been white or maybe they have always been grey. There's a characterless picture of a landscape painted by someone who lacks talent, a little round table, a cupboard, a red rug and a giant golden wolf.

 

He's in a motel room obviously. A cheap one by the way. It's boring, usual, not special. Why would he end up here?

 

_Giant golden wolf._

 

Achingly slowly he sits up on his bed. There's a wolf staring at him, but not any wolf. The creature is about 8 feet tall and covered in golden fur. It's eyes are resting upon the Doctor. They are dark like a starless night, drawing his gaze in like an all engulfing black hole. All of a sudden a super nova explodes in the depths of these eyes and a universe is being born. A sun evolves in the creature's iris and fades back into the darkness all at once. The demon opens it's mouth, revealing a crumbling mountain range. It's fangs are the Olympus Mons and Olympus Vesta, they reach into the highest heavens and into the deepest pits of hell, though he believes in neither of that. The fur is made of stardust and diamonds. It's soft and curly in one moment and spiky and adamant the next. The creature grows, takes up the entire space, grows out of the room and shrinks to the size of an atom the very next second.

 

When he blinks, the wolf is gone and at it's place, there's Rose. Not a terrifying creature, nothing ethereal, just a human girl in her twenties and she's smiling at him with slightly too big teeth framed by full, pink lips.

 

“Hello,” she simply says. Her eyes are full of happiness and the Doctor is very sure he just did something very brilliant.

 

He watches her for a long moment, sure if he could stretch this moment into eternity he would do it. Just sit there on a bed, staring at Rose Tyler and basking in the moment.

 

But like always, his curiosity gains the upper hand and his gob runs ahead of his brains as he tries to processing the recent events.

 

“You are supposed to be in another universe,” he tells her and her smile grows brighter, blinds him so much he has to avert his eyes again.

 

“I am, where I need to be”, she answers. He has heard that line before. Who told him that before?

 

“The TARDIS,” Rose replies. “I not always take you where you want to be, but where you need to be.”

 

The Doctor nods, because what else could he do. He thinks he should be running towards her, close the small space between them. After all, there are no Daleks, no Cybermen. The only threat is some hideous furniture. Wasn't he supposed to get off this planet for some reason? It's terribly hot.

 

Rose arches an eyebrow at him and drops down next to him on the bed. “What is it with you visiting planets that are beyond salvation or the end of the universe multiple times?” she wants to know. “I'd rather enjoy a firework. Less gloomy.”

 

She grins again and as he blinks her teeth shift. They look like bazanium asteroids floating through the Marew'Qualla nebula.

 

The Doctor inhales deeply, controls his features until his face is plain, free from emotion. His brows are only slightly furrowed, these eyebrows that could bring lesser nations down on their knees single browdly.

 

“You are not Rose,” he finally decides. “But let me tell you. If you think wearing her face is clever or toying with my emotions will have any impact on me, you know me badly. You are not the first being that is trying to use my friends against me and I need you to know, this day is bad as any other testing how far I would go..”

 

Before he can work himself further up to what would sure at some point could have progressed into an epic speech, the entity holds up it's hand.

 

“I am not,” she admits. “And yet I am her. Or at least I used to be. Or will be. Time is not entirely linear. It's more like a circle running in spirals while taking six dimensional turns to the left on the right side if you know what I mean.” Her expression is disarming. She scrutinizes him thoroughly and nods then. “I think I know now why you are drawn to places like this. This planet dying is a fixed point and after all these years you still are searching, needing to know what makes these points so special and why they need to happen. I could show you, if you want. Still your curiosity.”

 

He observes her closely. Her figure has by now decided to stay human, she isn't turning into a wolf anymore and of course he wouldn't be the Doctor if that unique thing wouldn't spark his interest. When could he ever resist climbing down the rabbit hole? But this? The moment he had set his feet on the planet he had been set back in time. Not physically, but emotionally. She could make him forget thousands of years, turn him into the besotted, lovestruck fool he had once been. One that had even gave up his powers and turned into a human. He isn't sure he could resist the temptation after everything he's been through. Not when he isn't feeling whole anyway, not when there is a giant part of him missing anyway. There is something he can't remember, an aching between his hearts and after the Time War it had been Rose to fill the emptiness.

 

As if sensing his turmoil she holds out her hand, wiggling her fingers slightly. “I know what you have lost,” she tells him sadly. “You will piece it together eventually. I want to help you. Trust me Doctor.” It's when she says his name he can feel his resistance crumble. It's his name, _Doctor,_ spoken with so much emotion that makes him give in. She's just enough Rose after all.

 


	4. Homecoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is getting longer than I expected...sorry!

“I understand it now,” Rose tells him as the stairs creak underneath his feet when she walks him out of the hotel. They are back on the streets of a nameless, unimportant alien planet. Her fingers are entwined with his. Their hands are clasped, fitting perfectly into one another. It feels as if they would have never let go each other in the first place. Her hips sway before him, he hair bounces merrily with each step she takes.

 

Thousand years have passed but holding on to Rose feels as natural as breathing. Their hands were made for each other, the Doctor thinks. No matter which body, Rose's hand is the one he wants to hold. She's walking earnestly past the buildings, scrutinizing every detail in the process: the filth on the ground, the cracks on the walls, the faces of the passerbys. The aliens on this planet have grey and green skins, their eyes are small, their bodies plump. None of them looks neither especially friendly nor hostile. They are normal people living normal lives.

 

The heat is becoming insufferable again as the sun is burning down on the pair. The Doctor has to shed the heavy coat he's usually wearing. He's tossing it unceremoniously to the ground, unable to carry the heavy garment any longer with him. He can always pick it up on his way back. Even his button down is too much under these circumstances. He's sweating again, feels the water dripping from his forehead, impairing his vision in the process. His palms are sweaty and Rose's hand is too hot in his but he can't let go now. She's taking the lead and he's following. If he let's go now, he might never find his way back, he's sure of that.

 

Rose herself is unfazed by the weather. She's holding her head up high and her jaw set tight as she keeps walking straight forward. Her shoulders are tense and her steps determined. The Doctor isn't sure if she has a destination to reach or if she is just trailing through the streets for the sake of walking.

 

“What do you understand,” the Doctor asks her finally a bit breathlessly.

 

“When we first met, you showed me how Earth burned,” she answers absent mindedly, twisting a strand of her hair between her fingers.“You taught me a lesson then,” she carries on, looking him directly into the eye and stopping in her tracks.

 

Her abrupt halt causes the Doctor to bump into her. For a moment his hands are around her hips, encircling her waist. He's only steadying himself, he thinks while holding onto her longer than exactly necessary. Their gazes meet and he's lost in the moment. The seconds stretch into an eternity as he drowns in her, studies her features. Her cheek bones and her chin are more prominent as she is much skinnier than he remembers. Yet her lips still have the pink colour his hearts memorized so many centuries ago. His body is momentarily pressed against hers. It's not a hug, but almost. She smells like vanilla, apples and mandarins while emanating the metallic scent of rust, time and dust. He feels her hot breath on his neck, hears the beating of her heart and senses it's little reverberations against his chest. He's a Time Lord after all. He can hear the blood rushing through her veins. The Doctor senses how full of life and power she is. Her waist is soft between his hands and he wants to dig his nails into her hips, wants to pull her closer and embrace her properly. He's holding onto a force of nature, a storm trapped between the palms of his hands. The Doctor can feel the energy vibrating from her. Any second it might just explode. If she ever decides to leash out, entire galaxies could burn to ashes and cinder. He feels all that and doesn't care.

 

He wants to lay his head against her shoulder and breath her in, taste her skin. He doesn't have this craving in this body, to taste things but this is _maybe_ Rose and he wants to be sure, wants to know.

 

Instead, he releases her, pushes himself and her back in the process. He immediately misses her proximity and the feel of her body so close to his. But the moment is ruined, gone and he sees a flicker of hurt crossing her features. The ground beneath his feet trembles slightly but then she regains her composure and the world steadies again.

 

“It was only billions of years later I grasped your lesson's importance,” she tells him while taking another step back, increasing the distance between them. It hurts physically when she pulls back, when he feels the tingle of her powers wearing off and leaving only a hollow feeling between the double pulse of his beating hearts. Rose's eyes are guarded again, revealing no emotion. He knows that mask she's wearing. She's closing off like a box, protecting her inner being from the world and more importantly, from him.

 

“Tell me your name, your real name” he demands softly. He takes a hesitant step towards her as if approaching a startled animal.

 

She scoffs haughtily in response. “My name,” she snarls, twisting her mouth into a sly grin. He has never seen that expression before on Rose's face: pure disgust. “What does a name matter?” she growls, raising her chin defiantly. “Look at this forsaken little rock floating through the universe,” she demands, stretching her arms out wide and laughing mirthlessly.

 

“Can you feel it?” She drops her head back, spinning around on her heels gracefully, still chuckling without joy. “You and I, we are falling through space and time, clinging to a tiny little ball made of stone and gold and iron. It's turning underneath our feet with a speed of 1350 miles per hour. Can you feel it,” she presses urgently. “Can you feel what is coming?” She stops breathlessly and loses her balance. Her hands fist forcefully into the fabric of his shirt as she tries regaining her stance.

 

Her now whiskey coloured eyes are trained intently at him as her fingers continue to twist his sweat soaked button down. “Can you feel doom arriving?” she whispers conspiratorially and her teasing tongue nearly comes out to play, tantalizes him caught safely behind her teeth. A wolfish grin blossoms on her face, reminding him again that this entity is anything but human.

 

“Oh stop this charade,” the Doctor growls impatiently in response, trying to push her away to no avail. His body decided to betray him and his harsh words as he presses closer, his hands finally pulling her towards him until nothing fits anymore between Rose and the Doctor. His voice sounds distant when he answers her and somewhat strained. “Of course I can feel it. I'm a Time Lord,” he adds trying to be haughty but sounding only discouraged. His traitorous hands encircle her waist so forcefully he must hurt her but he doesn't care. Doesn't care that he's soaking her with his sweat. He only wants to cling to her, melt into her. His hearts stutter in his chest and start beating again. Oh, it hurts so much! His skin aches to get more of her, to feel her and his breath comes out in ragged puffs.

 

They are still out in the open, on a public street and people must be staring by now. But who cares? Tomorrow all of them will be dead and gone and he will still be standing here with Rose Tyler, trying to merge with her.

 

This time it's Rose who breaks the moment. Disentangling herself from him she shoves him vigorously away, pushes him back to the ground and into the dust. She's hovering over him like a hawk, casting her shadow over his pitiful form. He falls unto his knees before her. The dirt clings to his wet skin as he tries pushing himself up with his hands. Scooting a hand through the strands of his hair he swears loudly.

 

“But you don't see!” she glares furiously at him. Her eyes are flashing to the colour of molten lava and glowing again from the unholy power hidden within. Sitting there in the dust, he just gapes at her. Miraculously, none of the aliens around them seems to notice. They keep passing by as if nothing had happened.

 

“Look up!” Rose spits out. “Look up into the sky, Time Lord!,” she repeats desperately. Are there tears welling up in her eyes?

 

“What,” he grumbles as he stares into the milky sky, searching for something exceptional. He can see birds, tiny insects, clouds. Nothing to dwell on. This planet is unimportant, uninteresting. But then his brows furrow in surprise. “Two suns.” His impressive brain tries processing the given information yet it refuses to admit what is painfully obvious. “That explains the unbearable heat,” he declares lamely at last, feigning to be unperturbed and scrambling back to his feet.

 

“How can you look but don't _see_?” Rose pulls her hair in frustration. “How many planets in _this_ universe propel around two suns yet are habitable?”

 

The Doctor scoffs. “You are not trying to tell me we are on?”

 

“No,” she huffs. “It's obviously not Gallifrey. Not yet. But like you showed me the death of Earth I'll show you the birth of Gallifrey.”

 

 

 


	5. Fenrir - The Bad Wolf

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright...there's nothing short about this any more. Sorry....

The Doctor and Rose Tyler stride hand in hand towards an uncertain fate, just as it should be. Their fingers are entwined, her thumb is stroking the outline of his hand ever so gently yet every caress sets his skin ablaze and steadies him all the same. The heat becomes less unbearable and when she looks at him with her whiskey coloured eyes, full of fragile ingenuousness, adoration and love he falls into a comfortable pace with her. He breathes in and counts the moments as they leave the closeness of the TARDIS far behind. They have seven minutes until doom and she leads him away from the city, away from any chance of salvation.

 

He lets his head loll back weakly as he enjoys being dragged forward like a rag doll and closes his eyes. The Doctor is tired of fighting and even if he wasn't he wouldn't fight Rose Tyler. Even if she isn't Rose Tyler and this planet isn't Gallifrey. He knows his home planet inside out. Knows how it's been born, knows it's origins, has seen it himself already.

 

Of course this is all a lie, yet it's the lie he wants to believe above any other. A long time ago he had shed his immortality, had turned human and ordinary, _irrelevant,_ for the promise of this woman. For once he chose to live instead to die for the one he loved and now he's stuck again.

 

His tormented mind loses hold of reality again and he doesn't know how much time has passed. It should unsettle him for he always knows down to a split second how quickly time passes but on this grim rock floating through space, time seems to be of no relevance. When he blinks and opens his eyes again, he's in the middle of a purple desert. The dunes enclose them in a perfect circle, reaching high up into the sky, higher than the Himalayas on earth and collapse in on themselves when he stares for too long. He blinks again and all of a sudden the land is perfectly flat, the ground beneath his feet coarse and covered with purple dust.

 

Rose smiles broadly at him. Her cheeks crack upwards and her lips are much too red from way too much lipstick. Her skin and eyes are too pale in comparison and he can finally put his finger on what's wrong with this Rose. There's no innocence left in her features. Love, yes. But no innocence. Something dark and cruel lurks behind her well known features ,like a beast kept in a cage ready to pounce.

 

A strangled sob escapes his mouth but she shushes him with a finger on his lips and gestures for him to look up into the sky. The milky light fades away at sickening pace, like deer running from wolves and Rose's lip twitch as she tries hiding a complacent smile. Darkness falls upon them like a heavy blanket as he gazes up into the pitch black heaven.

 

“The stars have gone out,” Rose declares matter of factly. He turns towards the voice but there's only more black. The ground is black, the heaven is black and so is the air. The darkness is so complete the Doctor isn't even sure he's still standing on solid ground.

 

She's laughing softly as he spins around in desperation because _this_ is the absolute nothingness, the end of everything and it's more terrifying than he could have ever imagined. He falls to the ground, tries scooping up the dust but his hands dig into more of nothing. He's not standing anymore but floating or maybe falling or maybe hanging in thin air. The Doctor's chest constricts, he tries to speak, talk his way out of this. He has always been a master of words but his tongues refuses to obey.

 

He screams in his head for her to have pity on him, to put him back on solid ground, to drop him back into the universe and all of a sudden, the ground is back beneath his feet. The light breaking through the nothingness is soft, a tea light in a ballroom, slowly becoming more intense, _too_ intense. The pain explodes behind the Doctor's eyelids as the day returns in a shrieking crescendo, reawakening the purple of the desert, the grey of the heaven and the yellowish shade of the lazy double-suns.

 

“All you had to do was ask,” Rose grins cheekily.

 

He spins on his heel and all of a sudden realization hits him like a freight train. The source of the light, of any light, all the light that ever was or will be, is _her_.

 

Rose raises an eyebrow smugly at him and winks. There's a long stick in her hands. The Doctor should probably wonder where she got that from, but at this point he's past questioning something that trivial.

 

Seemingly unfazed by his presence, Rose starts drawing circles and lines into the dust. Some lines are thick, others are razor thin. Yet all of the lines are connected. Some of them break up, die off while others are being continued in other circles and swirls. Her picture in the sand grows bigger and it doesn't seem like she has any intention to stop any time soon.

 

“Rose, what?” The Doctor's voice is laced with fear yet at the mention of her name, her head snaps up.

 

“You called me Rose!” she squeals happily, launching herself against his chest and dragging him into a fierce hug. “You said my name at last!” She's practically sizzling from exuberant joy and all of a sudden, she captures the Doctor's lips between hers and his body goes rigid in surprise.

 

Her kiss is full of desperation and longing. It lacks any finesse. There's too much saliva and too much force and too much pain and it's _perfect_. The Doctor feels her tongue invading his mouth aggressively, notes her teeth biting down on his lower lip, drawing blood in the process. The pain jolts through him like lightning and he is sure the has practically been blown out of his body and instantly being thrown back in. He can sense her hunger, tastes the acid of her starvation on the tip of his tongue. Bitter is his new favourite taste, he decides. Feverish, shivery hands encircle his waist and her fingernails dig into his hips. Rose is almost ripping the fabric of his shirt apart and he doesn't care

 

The Doctor groans as he tangles his fingers in her hair, messing up every fringe of her blonde curls. He tugs and pulls frantically in his desire to match her urgency and fire. He pulls her flush against his body were he is already needy and aching for more. For more of her, for more time with her. If he could, he would merge his body with hers, fuse with body with hers until they are one being. He wants her beyond a sexual level. He could eat her alive, swallow her entire being so he wouldn't ever be separated from her again and when he pulls back and looks at her, he sees his own insanity mirrored perfectly on her beautiful features.

 

She attacks him again, sucks his throat with newborn exasperation and almost berefts him from the breath of his lungs. She's overflowing with lust and the Doctor can already smell the heavy scent of her arousal in the air. They are at the edge of something, the Doctor knows it and this time, he wants to trip into the darkness. Now, he's ready and he knows, Rose can tell.

 

“Didn't you want to show me the birth of Gallifrey?” he laughs when his respiratory bypass kicks in again. It has been the wrong thing to say, he can tell the very second the words have left his mouth.

 

Her face falls. Not only her face, but her hands drop from his waist too. She stills completely but doesn't step back like before. Her fists clench by her side, she's kneading her fingers frantically. Rose shakes her head in frustration as tears well up in her eyes. Her mouth opens, forming a perfect O but then her eyes darken again, turn black. The world around them comes to a halt in sync with Rose. The rock underneath the Doctor's feet stops turning. He takes a deep breath and notices that he can't breathe. The oxygen refuses to enter his lungs and he waits for the constricting feeling of suffocation to set in but it never comes. Time around them has stopped entirely. Nothing is moving, particles of dust linger in the air, defying gravity.

 

“You don't understand!” She shouts angrily at the Doctor. Her cheeks heat up and her eyes blaze with that unholy fire again. Tugging the strands of her hair nervously she starts pacing. She's walking in circles around him, muttering indistinct syllables of a language the Doctor has never heard of under her breath. A flicker of understanding crosses her features and then she picks up her stick again.

 

“Ta!” she exclaims manically as she draws a perfect circle around the Doctor. “Look! Look! Look!” she gestures furiously at the ring, pleading him to understand. The Doctor catches her writs and places her hands between his. Her gaze flickers unsteadily between him and the ground. He can see her insanity clear as day and gulps.

 

“Rose Tyler,” he says softly, drawing her attention back to him. When he says her name this time, he makes sure to put as much emotion as possible into the syllables. He speaks her name like he used to when she was still human, letting all his long buried devotion surface. His mind wanders back to the cold beach in Norway, to an apple tree in New, New, New, New, New, New York, to the basement of a department store and homicidal shop window dummies. He lets his feelings flood his hearts.

 

Rose looks at him like seeing him for the first time. She's so awestruck, she makes him feel like a wonder or a miracle. But that's Rose and her ability to make him feel at ease and a bit proud and even happy.

 

“Doctor,” she whispers. “Look at the circle.”

 

“It's quite perfect,” he replies, lips twitching and meaning something entirely else than the ring drawn around them.

 

“But where is the beginning?” Rose asks and finally understanding dawns in his mind. She sits down to the ground, pulling the Doctor with her. He follows willingly. She leans in, comes so close he can sense her breath on his face and awkwardly this feels inexplicably more intimate than their prior kiss. The heat radiating off her body is more intense than the planet's, yet much more pleasant. Her soft hair brushes his cheek and he buries himself in it. Her arms are tentative around his neck. The Doctor is crying. He hasn't even noticed but the wetness on his skin speaks for itself.

 

Rose is talking to him but not with words. Her voice is only in his head as she shares her secrets with him, secrets he must not speak of and by now he is sobbing without restraint. What are the billions of years trapped on Gallifrey compared to her fate? Years he can't completely remember by some unknown grace.

 

“Doctor,” she calls him in his head. But she doesn't. She calls him by his name, his true name.

 

“Look at the circle? Where does it start? Where does it end? A line is made of endless points and a point is nothing but a very short line. All is flowing into one, Doctor. Everything flows into circles,” she murmurs. “This planet _is_ Gallifrey. It's the first Gallifrey. The last Gallifrey and the Gallifrey in the middle of the circle. It falls apart, dies, takes all its inhabitants with it into the darkness. But behold! The universe was born from darkness, exploded out of nothing and was born again. Again, again and again. There is no end of time, no end of the universe just the darkness before dawn, Doctor. At least there used to be.” She's averting his eyes, her sadness suddenly overpowering her. Her fingers trace the lines of his face lovingly as she leans into him, mingling his breath with hers. The planet starts moving again, lurches forward as the winter rushes over the pair of them. Poisonous snow starts falling in such amounts they are both covered by it the one moment and the other, the heat is back and the planet isn't spinning anymore but falling, hurtling towards the double-suns or the suns are hurtling towards the planet? The ground is set ablaze, the sand melts, turns to glass and becomes liquid from the unbearable heat.

 

“The entire universe dies and gets reborn.” Rose hums unfazed and miraculously, the Doctor isn't scared either. “This is as good as Gallifrey as any other,” she carries on. “The universe dies, tumbles into the darkness with all the parallel universes that develop from all the unused options in one universe and are being reborn at once. And all starts anew, fresh from scratch and the fixed points in time are in flux for one glorious moment and all the creatures own all the options, Doctor.” Her eyes lighten up in ecstasy and she claps her hands like a child. “Everything is possible and all is just at the beginning and there's so much _hope_.”

 

Rose jumps up and her hands cover her mouth. “Hope!” She screams. “There is all the hope! And then it goes downhill, then all the mistakes are being remade and all the pain comes back and all falls back into place and the puzzle that is this universe can't be solved! And all is evil again and all must fade from existence again and _I_ need to start from scratch and set the course again. _You!_ ”

 

She turns furiously, spins around like a witch at a bedevilment and points an accusing finger at the Doctor. “ _You_ never accept what has to happen, you want to change what can't be changed! And _I_ let you,” Rose hisses. “I gave you back what should have never been returned. I gave you back this doomed planet and now I hear this universe screaming in agony. The Time Lords! I let them return, I listened to your prayer and now I'm chained.”

 

A scream is being ripped from her throat. A howl rattles through the desert, sending all the particles flying. The ground vibrates as an earthquake great enough to tear the whole thing apart shakes through them. The Doctor has to hold on for dear life when he's being turned upside down.

 

“I created myself!” she yells at him becoming more furiously with each word. “You drew the vortex from me but it was already too late for I have already born myself, created myself as time itself, as the wolf Fenrir! Fenrir, who can swallow the entire universe and give birth to it at once and like Fenrir, I have been chained. The Time Lords chained me up! I listened to your prayer, I gave you back your planet but the price I paid was too high!”

 

“Doctor!” Rose turns to him with wild eyes. “Do you remember the game station? I said I wanted you safe. Didn't you ever wonder? How you could always be safe, always survive? How fate always spared your life? I made a vow, I kept it! You are still alive, my Doctor,” she sobs. “But now the Time Lords have come back and I let them and it was a mistake.”

 

 


	6. And we will be Enemies

“I was human, a long time ago.” Rose smiles ruefully. “And so were you.” She adds as an afterthought and starts pacing. “When I drank the Time Vortex, I started changing. I became more like you. Even more _than_ you. And you became more like me, my Doctor. Isn't that right? But instead of meeting each other in the middle we both slipped and let us get torn apart.” Rose tilts her head thoughtfully.

 

She's struggling, the Doctor can see that. She's struggling to _speak,_ to act like a living, breathing being and not like the Goddess she is. She's searching for words, even if pictures are much easier for her. Her jaw clenches and unclenches. The madness in her eyes fades, kept at bay by sheer willpower.

 

“I barely remember being human,” she tells him and inspects her heavy boots, watches the dust settle on the leather instead of looking him in the eye. “Maybe the TARDIS wanted you here to give you some kind of consolation. Maybe she wanted you to know that there's no real end of time, no end of living. Nothing dies forever. The universe changes, shifts....there are as much atoms in a dead body as in a living body.” Her voice breaks as she speaks and she reaches out as if to grab his shirt again. There's a lump in her throat but she swallows it down.

 

Rose makes a helpless gesture. “I'm not really your Rose and you are not really my Doctor but we used to be or will be. Depends on what point in the circle you are standing.” She shrugs with a shy smile, down casting her eyes in the process. In that moment she looks so endearing, fragile and like the young woman the Doctor had once brought with him that he needs to reach out. He wants to hold her in his arms, tell her that everything will be alright. Yet Rose steps back, shakes him off. She doesn't want his embrace or pity – she wants him to open his eyes, to see. Rose is way beyond salvation and no touch, no gesture will ever be able to change that. It's a simple fact.

 

The Doctor nods. He understands at last. The puzzle sets itself together, the pieces click into place but there's still so much he's missing. “You are _Time_?” he asks at last. Rose nods. “One way of putting it. I, this me, is Time - all time, every time in any universe that was and will be and in all the parallel universes developing from there on.” She doesn't look him in the eye as she speaks. Her gaze is trained at some unidentifiable place in the distance and the Doctor wonders what she sees there. She doesn't sound smug. Just very tired and very defeated and very old.

 

“But I'm also an unimportant human girl in one of these universes and a developing thing in a parallel dimension.....” Her head snaps up and she studies his features intently. Her scrutiny is unsettling. The Doctor feels like being put under a microscope and for once, he feels small and as insignificant as all his companions always claim to be. Obviously satisfied by what she finds there she carries on. “Time can be broken down to one moment. Doctor, if you had one moment, what would you do?”

 

“Is that what the Time Lords did to you?” he asks cautiously. Rose nods carefully. “We were happy, you and I. Like you pictured us being when you left me, left a part of you on that beach in Norway. It didn't last of course. The second I swallowed time my future had been set. It's ridiculous, isn't it? I can bend time to my will yet I can't change my own fate.” Her head drops back and she starts laughing gleefully. It's a carefree sound, happy in it's honesty. “And so the Time Lords came before all my powers were fully developed and bound me. They made a weapon of me. One that terrifies simply by it's existence.”

 

The Doctor shifts uncomfortably on his feet. There's so much he wants to know and yet he doesn't want to know at all. He had left her to a better fate, had given her a human life, had done for her what he deemed best. He never even considered asking about her opinion on the matter. It's too late now. It always was.

 

“Did they hurt you?” The question leaves the Doctor's mouth without him wanting to either.

 

“So much I'll never be afraid of anything again.”

 

The sentence hangs heavily between them. “You are looking for the Hybrid,” she finally says. “The One that will stand on the ruins of Gallifrey and unravel the Web of Time. I won't be able to protect you from him or from the war he's about to unleash again.”

 

“Who is the Hybrid?”

 

Rose simply smiles. “You should stop asking questions you already know the answer to. Doctor, you brought back the Time Lords. A race that started a war crossing all of reality and all of time. This war will be forever with no ending. We are only having a truce. And you and I, Doctor, we are not fighting on the same side. I let you come back to Gallifrey but only because I swore to protect you at all costs. I have no obligations to your race and when you keep trying to protect them, I'll spare you, but we will turn into enemies. Inevitably.” Touching his jaw she grants him a watery smile. She rises up then to her toes. They are face to face, breathing the same air, inhaling the same scent. Caught in a moment that stretches forever and is gone already before it started.

 

The kiss she plants on his mouth is chaste, hesitant. “I can sacrifice my mortality and you can sacrifice your immortality but not even that will ever be enough. We are Gods, you and I." Her breath is hot on his face. “The only Gods this universe has,” Rose whispers against his ear and there's the heat again, setting the Doctor's flesh on fire, burning him alive and not burning hot enough. “There's a reason the Gods in the old myths are at war with each other. We can't be together cause inevitably we will try to save the universe and take different measures to fulfil our destiny. Our eternal bond is hate. A hate that keeps the world going, holds it in balance else we'd rip it apart together to keep each other safe, all the worlds and races be damned.” She looks him straight in the eye and he nods.

 

“It's a complete hate, one that can only be born from wholehearted, perfect love. The love that we used to share. Doctor, tell me,” she begs. “Just this once, tell me,” she urges. The tears in her eyes are oceans, waves rolling against a cold shore. The Doctor looks at her and sees her standing in Norway. A shiver runs down his spine as if a cold wind had hit him.

 

His mouth crashes down on her. Unlike last time, she isn't just an image but time in flesh. Not his Rose, never his Rose, but always something else yet good enough. He jumps in head first and plunges his tongue past her teeth like all these years ago at the Game Station. He kisses her like a dying man and she reciprocates like a woman sucking the last bit of oxygen from the void. Her hands are in his hair tugging and caressing, sending rivulets of pain through his entire body. He doesn't mind. He isn't gentle either as he wraps his hand around her, pressing her so close to his body she must have trouble breathing. It doesn't matter – he just wants to be one with her. Sharp nails scratch his back, hard enough to tear through the fabric. The Wolf is ripping her prey apart. He responds by pulling her shirt forcefully over her head.

 

Rose breaks the kiss, sucks in a deep breath of air and the Doctor wonders if she even needs it. Her mouth is back at his jaw, moaning against his skin, sending reverberations down to his core. The Doctor wants her, wanted her in this way from the second he first saw her on this planet that is a predecessor of Gallifrey in an unknown dimension about to fade from existence. He could die right here, right now and wouldn't mind. He knows that won't happen.

 

“Say it, say it, say it,” she chants desperately against his skin.

 

He doesn't know why she needs it to hear so much. Love, hate – these are only words. Meaningless syllables, only breath on one's skin.

 

He pulls her to the ground. Eager hands unbutton buttons, tear at fabric in a haste. Clothing means nothing. They are going to be together _now_ and this moment will mean an eternity and last as long. His mind is screaming into her head, showing her what words can't say.

 

“Say it,” she screams. “Let the universe know. Take it into the open, for once!” Her rage is like acid, boiling in his veins, burning him from inside.

 

Bare legs wrap around his pelvis, holding him in place like a vice. She is his vice.

 

“Say it!” she yells in his head.

 

He bends down to lick the sweat pooling between her breasts and she arches into him as he bites into the tender flesh. He doesn't have to be careful. She won't break. He catches her wrists above her head, holds her down. _I have all of time at my mercy._ His smirk is filthy. Rose squirms impatiently beneath him but he takes his time. Here in the dirt, here in the desert nobody will disturb then. This world won't burn until they are done. The longer they take the longer do the inhabitants have. He thinks he doesn't really care about them. To them a few more moments are only more beans on toast, to him they mean eternity.

 

He pushes into her, hammers into her mercilessly. Each bite, each scratch marks her as his own. He's a Time Lord and she is Time. The blood is rushing through his ears. He doesn't even notice how he shouts one sentence over and over again. An endless chant in a forsaken desert.

 

“I love you. I love you. I love you.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have made it this far, I'd be very grateful for a comment :)


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